


sometimes they come true

by TolkienGirl



Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e09 Home, Gen, If Only They Knew, Poor Boys Theorizing About Sam's Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: The ache in his chest is the same shape as always.It was the shape of her that changed.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777720
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	sometimes they come true

“Maybe they’re from her.”

Dean arranges his French fries in a crosshatch pattern, then devours them one by one. Sam has a habit—and really, it’s a fucking annoying habit for someone with a lifelong motormouth—of speaking in half-thoughts. It’s like most of the conversation has already gone on in his giant, emotionally conflicted brain, and Dean is supposed to pick up the pieces.

Dean used to be good at picking up the pieces. He doesn’t want to admit defeat now.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, deflecting his ignorance. He takes another fry. It’s a runt, a crisp splinter of potato more brown than golden.

Delicious.

“I don’t mean to be an optimist,” Sam says, sipping his lemonade in the middle of his sentence. “But just—look. We listened to the…to my dream, or whatever, this time. And we saved people.”

He has the raw-edged Jess-look creeping into his eyes again.

“Yeah, we did.” Dean is no one’s star student, but he likes to think he isn’t a complete idiot. “So you think…you think _Mom_ sent you the dreams.”

It’s hard, to say her name. Hard to count the days since he’s seen her face outside of pictures _as_ days, rather than years.

The ache in his chest is the same shape as always.

It was the shape of her that changed.

How do you live with that? How does he live with that? Dad hasn’t called him back, and Sam is having dream-visions and pinning them on the love of a mother he barely knew.

There it is. There’s the rub. But Dean has to remember that it’s not about him. As much as he wants to live inside his head about Lawrence, he can’t. As much as he wants Mom to be his, most of all, she’s not.

She never was.

“I don’t know.” Sam was picking at his limp salad while Dean was wallowing. Now he’s talking again. “I just think it would make sense, in a way. Mom was still in the house. I’m her—I’m her _son_. She tries to warn me of what’s going to happen, as it connects to…the house. The thing that killed her. That killed Jess.”

_Well, she did love us that much._

Dean doesn’t say that. Doesn’t trust his own voice with those words. “So in this theory,” he says instead, “Every vision or dream or whatever-the-hell, came from Mom?”

Sam nods. He’s going to have an impossibly deep furrow right above his eyebrows by the time he’s twenty-five.

“OK,” Dean says. Dean always wants to believe things he knows are too good to be true. Dad never broke him of that, though he rightfully tried. “Well, Sammy, it’s a nice thought.”

“I’m not one hundred percent sold on it either,” Sam counters, hiding in his lemonade again. “I mean, I guess there’s a way to prove it right or wrong.”

Dean nods, understanding _that_ at once. “See if you have any more visions.”


End file.
